Play It Forward
This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.
Getting ready …
Tentatively, footsteps sound on the porch. I’m waiting inside with my hand on the knob. For three years I’ve been waiting to have friends up for cocktails on a Friday night.
Truthfully, I’ve never been much of a drinker. I married at eighteen and skipped the party phase. But my Grandmother—the stylish golfer who danced on a table in Switzerland? She had a penchant for cocktails. My other grandmother—polar opposite—grew up on a farm.
I, somewhere in between, have been Jonesing to bring my garden herbs and fruits to play in cocktails and mocktails for ages. I’m a rank beginner with a bar book. I’ve done far more reading then drinking. But tonight, I’m cued up to play.
The goat cheese I’ve plated from my hometown is paired with a mustard dill sauce that will send us to the moon. Fresh sliced cucumbers and salty kalamata olives sing with a local hummus. My guest has two kinds of crackers stowed in her bag with a bottle tucked beneath.
It’s the hottest day of summer. A breeze begins to stir. My fancy horse trough, surrounded by flowers, is ready for a cool dip.
I’ve been waiting by the door since she pulled up. I’m wearing a blue swim romper with a purple feather boa that Seda recently decluttered.
It’s been tempting to sit down, to check my phone, to do anything but feel the anticipation. My insides are under pressure, like a shook up can of LaCroix.
Turning my attention inward, I feel joy and discomfort. I breathe. This being human—the wanting, the actualizing, the thrill, and the fear of disappointment—I feel it all.
I find trust in myself to return to a grounded state, no matter what happens. There is trust in my friendship, too. I am grateful to know myself this way. Slowing down to feel is a practice of joy. It stretches my comfort zone.
She knocks. I throw open the door.
My friend’s eyes fly open wide. She raises a hand to her mouth and bursts out laughing. I welcome her. “Helllllooo, darling! Come in!”
She leans against the door jamb. She cannot stop laughing. The cast off feather boa makes its mark. A smorgasbord of planned and unplanned meet in joyful co-creation.
Which bucket list summer plans are you actualizing, and where does the unexpected improve them? When do you appreciate the gifts of past generations and play it forward? I’d love to hear.
Want more joy? The recorded series is available for your study-at-leisure. I can’t wait to meet you.